


A Little Appreciation, A Little Acceptance (a lot of affection)

by straylize



Series: A little bit of inertia [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Pure Unadulterated Fluff, because today is for loving claude and loving claude only, kiss claude day, verdant moon au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26320558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straylize/pseuds/straylize
Summary: Sometimes, you don't know that you're the sun illuminating the path for others. Sometimes, you forget. And if you're Claude von Riegan...Well, his allies learned to scheme from the best, after all. So they may as well put those schemes to good use in order to give their fearless leader a warm reminder.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: A little bit of inertia [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885978
Comments: 15
Kudos: 94





	A Little Appreciation, A Little Acceptance (a lot of affection)

**Author's Note:**

> \- This is specifically for [#KissClaudeDay](https://twitter.com/hashtag/KissClaudeDay?src=hashtag_click), because Claude deserves love and smooches.  
> \- The end of the "canon" timeline  
> \- It's still Verdant Moon AU, so Claude and Dimitri are inseparable, completely in love, and the best allies, combining their houses to end wars.  
> \- Context? I don't know her.

“Is it just me, or does Claude seem… a little  _ too _ enthusiastic lately?”

Hilda’s gaze narrows on Claude’s back as he saunters out of the dining hall; though he was all smiles while they ate, she can’t help but feel that something about it is  _ forced _ . She can’t put her finger on why that is, though.

The war is over. Fódlan is just weeks away from being formally united under Dimitri’s rule, and everyone is in good spirits. Everyone is preparing to go their separate ways—back to their home territories to move on to the next phases of their lives in this newer, more peaceful era. There’s a lot of work to be done, and she knows that Claude will be returning to Fhirdiad with Dimitri to aid in the transitional process—but she thinks that should be all the more reason for him to be sincerely happy.

Not… whatever it is he’s been acting like over the last few days.

“I believe… he is feeling homesick,” It’s Dimitri who responds, setting his spoon down and training his gaze on the door that Claude exited from. “Unlike the rest of us, he won’t be returning to his home.”

Much as it’s to his chagrin to admit, Dimitri feels guilty for that fact; he knows it’s because of him that Claude won’t be returning to Almyra for the foreseeable future. Staying for the duration of time it would take to properly unify the governments and laws across the former Alliance and Empire territories was already a tall order—though Claude had suggested it himself when he had proposed giving up his role as the Alliance’s leader. But there was more to it; Claude had also promised that he wouldn’t leave Dimitri’s side until he felt confident in his ability to shoulder the burdens of Fódlan himself. And Dimitri—well, Dimitri knows he isn’t quite to that point yet.

“Oh… right,” Hilda pauses, lips curving into a deep frown. “I know Claude’s big on his secrets, but why doesn’t he just say that? He doesn’t have to go acting like he’s fine. It’s been, like, a  _ really  _ long time since he’s been to Almyra, hasn’t it?”

It’s still strange for her to think about; she always knew that Claude was hiding things, and that he wasn’t quite like anyone from the Alliance, despite the fact that multiple people—Holst included—seemed to believe the veracity of the claims that he was a legitimate heir to Duke Riegan. She hadn’t even considered that he was an Almyran, and really, Hilda thought she could kick herself for how many times she’d been so blatantly disparaging about Almyra right to his face. The years had changed all of their comrades—enough so that Nader’s appearance at Fort Merceus really hadn’t felt like any sort of threat to Fódlan at all… instead, it answered so many questions they’d all held about Claude over the years.

He' s half-Almyran, but just as dedicated to doing good for Fódlan as he had been for his homeland. In some way, he alone had been able to shift perceptions of what Almyrans could be like, both on and off the battlefield—and perhaps that they’d all been so foolish to hold on to those notions after meeting people from all over the world during their time at the monastery. It gave Hilda a lot more to think about than she often cared to—

_ But that really is Claude for you _ , she thinks.

Still, she has a hard time wrapping her head around it all. She’ll probably never completely understand Claude, but she can’t deny that it bothers her a little that he’s still keeping it all to himself, even though everyone knows about his heritage now.

"Nearly seven years. He now has the freedom to come and go over Fódlan’s Throat as he sees fit, but he truly is intending to keep his promises,” It bothers Dimitri more than anyone, that Claude is trying to shoulder that loneliness all on his own. “I’m sure he’s keeping quiet about it because he doesn’t want anyone to worry. Spirits have been high of late, and he isn’t the sort to want to spoil it.”

“Sure, but I don’t think that’d really spoil anything. We all know he has to be homesick; who  _ wouldn’t _ miss their home after that long?” Hilda could think of a few people, sure, but most people who have an attachment to their home end up missing it. And after more than half a decade, all amid a war where he could’ve been killed at any time? It seems pretty silly to act like everything’s fine.

Especially when it’s pretty  _ bad _ acting, especially for Claude.

“I imagine he also still has trepidation about the stigmas. For all that he has love for his home, he is aware that Almyrans are still not viewed too favorably here in Fódlan. He is… quite protective of himself in that regard.”

Dimitri knows, after all. At this point, he knows most of Claude’s secrets, and just why he’s kept them the way he has. Dimitri too, has done all he can to keep things close to him; to let Claude reveal his truths as he feels comfortable doing so. But Dimitri is more than aware of how much pain and struggle that mixed heritage has caused for Claude—he cannot fault the fact that in a time of celebration, Claude wants everyone’s spirits to stay high—and for the focus to be away from his personal situation.

But even in the privacy of their own rooms, it seems Claude is shouldering more alone than he should. Dimitri’s brows draw together in thought; he has no idea how he can help Claude without forcing the issue and causing discomfort—the last thing he really wants to do. Claude always manages to find a way to support him; the fact he can’t seem to do the same in turn stings and tugs at Dimitri’s heart just a little bit. His frown only deepens and he begins to get wrapped in his thoughts—

Which Hilda cuts through pretty easily.

“Just leave this one to me. I think I have an idea that could lift his spirits a little.”

Dimitri’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but he trusts Hilda enough to leave it in her hands—she wouldn’t put in the effort if she didn’t think it would work, after all.

* * *

It’s the sixth day of the Horsebow Moon, and Claude is making his way from the dining hall to the cathedral, where he’d agreed to meet with Byleth to discuss a future plan for restoring the fallen parts of the building. With resources still low in the aftermath of the war, he’d planned to have some stone and glass brought in from Almyra—but they’d need to look it over and discuss with the restoration crew how much they would need. 

He doesn’t get far before Hilda interrupts him, calling out from behind. “Hey Claude, wait up!”

Claude turns on his heels, a brow arching in surprise—and a touch of suspicion. “What’s up, Hilda? It’s not every day you go chasing after anyone.”

“Well, it’s not every day I get good news that I want to share!”

That much is true, Claude can’t deny. Hilda is typically good at keeping her spirits high, despite circumstances. Even with the injuries Holst sustained from trying to hold off Nemesis, she did her best to overcome her worries and press forward. If she feels she has good news, good enough to chase after him, he can’t imagine it would be anything  _ but _ a positive update about that situation.

“By all means, then.”

“I got a letter from my brother this morning. And you know what he said in it? That Nader the Undefeated came  _ himself _ with some sort of medicine from Almyra. He says his wounds are healing a lot faster because of it!”

“...Nader did? Geez, he must have really taken a shine to Holst if he went out of his way to do that.”

“Yep, sure seems like it! I still  _ seriously _ do not get how they hit it off so well, but if he’s okay with it, then who am I to argue? Either way, that means I really,  _ really  _ need to thank you, Claude. If it weren’t for you helping to mend their weird warrior-man rivalry, he’d probably be bedridden for months longer. Soooo… thanks!” Her movements are swift, a gap closing between them briefly as Hilda gets into Claude’s personal space, hoists herself on her tip-toes, and presses a quick, chaste kiss to Claude’s cheek. “Catch you later, Claude!”

She scurries off before giving him a chance to properly respond. Claude, for his part, is rendered confused, and honestly speechless as he lifts a hand to touch his cheek… and to wipe off the sticky remains of Hilda’s lip gloss from his cheek.

Something is definitely up. There’s a scheme going on right under his nose, and Claude isn’t sure what to make of it.

* * *

Claude barely makes it to the reception hall when he stopped once again, though this time—he’s a little more aware.  Sylvain and Felix are loitering in the area, seemingly bickering about something or another—not really too abnormal for them as others mill about.

“I told you, I’m not going along with this idea. If you want to make a fool of yourself like you always do, then go ahead. But leave  _ me _ out of it,” Felix is grumbling, muttering the last of his words under his breath as he averts his gaze away from Claude.

“Come on, Felix. You have just as much to thank him for, don’t you? You’ve been in way better spirits ever since His Majesty came to his senses.”

“Not because I  _ care _ about what either of them do,” He spits a response out at Sylvain, but they both know better of it; they’re both grateful to Claude for all he’s done in helping Dimitri, after all. “It’s just less of a pain when he’s not rambling to himself at all hours of the night.”

“But—”

“ _ Sylvain. _ ” Felix prefers Sylvain doesn’t finish that sentence. He knows, after all. While Dimitri isn’t speaking to ghosts, hallucinations, or the dead; while he’s not waking up with a scream in the dead of night from night terrors—he still, quite constantly, has had to listen to the murmurs of Claude and Dimitri on the other side of his walls, regardless of what room they decide to sleep in. He doesn’t want, or need, to be reminded of it, not when he’s constantly tuning it out. What the two of them do is none of his business—which is precisely why he has no interest in taking part in Hilda and Dimitri’s little schemes.

Though it seems like Sylvain isn’t having any of it.

As Claude begins to make his way through the reception hall, the gap between him and where the two bickering men stand closes—though aware as Claude may be, he isn’t at all prepared for what comes next.

“Just relax, Felix. Tell him how you really feel!” Sylvain calls it out so casually, with a wink and a laugh that would charm nearly anyone (but Felix himself, who is absolutely  _ over it _ ). As he finishes his exclamation, he bumps his hip against Felix’s back and follows it up with a small shove…

Pushing him  _ directly _ into Claude. It’s wholly unintentional and rather clumsy, the way Felix stumbles forward, unable to catch himself as he crashes against Claude. While Claude manages to stop him from barreling them both over and tumbling to the floor, he  _ doesn’t _ prevent further contact from being made, Felix’s face practically crashing against his own, lips landing right at Claude’s jawline.

It’s a predicament, and a rather embarrassing one at that. A kiss was definitely not part of the plan here.

“Oh man,” Sylvain, at the very least—between bouts of almost-cackling laughter, is quick to tug Felix back, though not without a bit of teasing. “When I said ‘tell him how you really feel,’ I didn’t expect you’d be so  _ bold. _ ” 

Felix whips around to face Sylvain, reaching for the sword sheathed at his hip. His face is flushed an embarrassed shade of pink, but his eyes indicate how absolutely livid he is. Before Claude even has a chance to interject—with equal measures of humor and confusion—Felix snarls his words. “I told you to leave me the hell out of this! And  _ you _ —”

Sparing just a moment, he draws his ire away from Sylvain to look at Claude. “If you’re so damn nimble, why didn’t you prevent that?! Ugh, forget it. If either of you speak of this again, I  _ will _ cut you down.”

He stomps off without another word; Sylvain is still laughing as Claude’s head tilts slightly to one side. “I’m usually pretty good at being in the loop on this week’s hot conversation topic, but I think you might have to fill me in on this one.”

“Don’t sweat it too much; you know how Felix can be sometimes,” Sylvain responds as he shakes off some of his amusement, throwing an arm casually over Claude’s shoulder. “We just thought it’d be a good time to thank you. You kind of took us in when Faerghus was falling apart—but more importantly you never gave up on Dimitri and helped him really reclaim things. You know, himself, the Kingdom… all of Fódlan too, I guess. He may be the king now, but he’s still like our brother. I couldn’t think of a better guy to take care of him as the world changes.”

Sylvain’s words are strangely heartfelt—and most certainly more his than Felix’s, even if Claude is sure there is an air of truth to that sentiment. Still, he can’t deny there’s something oddly warm about it; though Sylvain doesn’t say as much, it feels to him as if he’s being accepted as an addition to their longstanding brotherhood. 

Acceptance is a bit of a strange feeling to Claude; the warmth it carries is still unfamiliar, at best.

Claude nods and laughs a little, awkward. “I just played my cards according to my schemes. That’s not something you really have to thank me for. If you  _ really _ want to thank me, then do it by making sure Felix doesn’t take out his flustered vengeance on me by way of slicing my head clean from my shoulders.”

He plays it off. Not because he doesn’t appreciate it, not because he doesn’t think there’s a measure of sincerity to it.

_ But it just feels weird. _

Even as they part ways and Sylvain chases after Felix in the direction of the training hall, Claude feels equal parts on edge and completely humbled.

* * *

“Heya, Claude! Got a sec?”

A pit of dread forms in Claude’s stomach as he approaches the bridge to the cathedral, only to hear Balthus’ booming voice from behind. Were this any other day, he’d already have a measure of trepidation, given how astute Balthus always seems to be when it comes to…

His mother, of all people.

So on a day like this, where everyone seems to be acting a bit strangely, he isn’t sure he likes where this is going. He stops and turns to look at Balthus, wordlessly indicating for him to continue.

“I got a letter from Tiana. She—”

“Okay, before you go any further.  _ Why _ are you exchanging letters with my mom? I’m pretty sure we’ve been through this whole ‘she’s married and you need to give it up’ deal already.”

“Come on, pal. You really think I’ve got that little tact? I told you! I just want a little closure. That’s why I sent a letter off with Nader, through Holst. And she was kind enough to respond.”

Claude was wary before, but now he’s even  _ more _ wary.  _ Kind enough to respond _ is a terrifying notion, given how absolutely fierce and strong-minded Tiana tends to be. Maybe it’s because it’s clear this letter wasn’t her completely shooting Balthus down and threatening to punch him right in the throat that he feels uneasy. Unsure of what to even  _ say _ to that, Claude groans, waving a hand as if to encourage Balthus to continue. The quicker he gets this over with, the better.

“Anyway, she said she doesn’t want to see your face until you got everything sorted out here. Not to leave Fódlan with any unfinished business, so you can move on to ‘the next phase’ without regrets. Not sure what that means, but I’m sure you’ve got it. She also said you need to write to her and your pops more. And to treat His Majesty right.”

“...Did she also say I need to make sure to wash behind my ears, or is she saving that for the letters I already exchange with her?” This has to be a joke, that’s what Claude thinks. The message Balthus is passing on undoubtedly sounds like things his mother would say—but how necessary it was to do this through Balthus, that’s another story.

“Nah, but she did leave me with something else. Just, uh… I dunno, close your eyes or something. And don’t shoot the messenger, got it?!”

_ This is definitely strange. _

Just when Claude thinks the day can’t get any stranger, it seems to find a way. Resigned to whatever it is that’s going to happen, he sighs and closes his eyes. He really,  _ really _ wants to get this over with so he can just get through the rest of this day without any more incidents.

Once again, though, nothing can really prepare him for what comes next.

“She says she misses you and hopes your time here in Fódlan taught you a lot about the world. Asked me to do this, too.” Claude can feel the hulking presence Balthus has looming over him, even with his eyes closed. And yet, he’s wholly unprepared for what feels like a soft kiss to his forehead. Much like Sylvain’s words earlier, it’s strangely warm… and deeply uncomfortable.

“...You know she said all that so you’d get distracted and leave her be, right?” Claude still doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel an embarrassed— _ humiliated _ —flush rising from his neck straight up into his ears. Not only that; Tiana definitely wanted to find a way to embarrass the hell out of her grown son just for a personal laugh. He’s sure of it, that is the only explanation for how  _ any _ of this is happening right now.

If nothing else, Balthus is quick to back up, taking his normal, casual stance and offering a laugh. “Yeah, I know it. Still thought it would be a good idea to pass along to you, though. Even if she’s just trying to mess with us, there’s some truth behind it. Been a long time since she’s seen you, can’t really imagine she doesn’t miss her son at least a little.”

Sometimes—only  _ sometimes _ —Balthus can be really insightful. Claude supposes that it’s because they really did go through a fair amount of similar circumstances in their youth. He also supposes that this was the least tactful way of showing that he was a bit worried about how much Claude was missing his family and his homeland. It’s strange, yet still thoughtful.

“Thanks, though, I guess. I’ll make sure to write her later and ease her mind a bit. Also, never do that again, got it?”

Balthus just laughs as he nods, letting Claude go. Even Balthus has limits to how much he’s willing to embarrass Tiana’s only son, after all.

There’s no doubt, this day is a strange one.

* * *

It doesn’t take long for Claude to realize this is all a very calculated attack. Everywhere he turns, someone is offering him words of kindness and showing him acts of affection.

It comes in the form of Byleth kissing his cheek and thanking him for not giving up on finding her. It comes in the form of a chest crushing bear hug from Raphael. A kissed rose from Lorenz and an offer of gratitude for his leadership of the Alliance. The gift of a curry pie made with Almyra spices from Dedue and Ashe for lunch. Marianne holding his hand and thanking him for giving her strength, despite his own hardships.

Nearly every single one of his comrades, his  _ friends _ had found him. All but one—perhaps the one he’d want to see most when his heart aches silently with homesickness.

Eventually he finds himself out in the monastery’s wyvern keep, where he approaches his old friend. Rafiq, the red-bearded, white wyvern he valiantly rode into battle—a friend who transcended location, time, circumstance. For Claude, he is a place of comfort, someone he can rely on in any situation. They were practically raised together, after all. The white wyverns of Almyra were bred specifically for the royal family; only those in line for the crown and their spouses were afforded such a rare breed. They were noble, and far easier to tame—not to mention, loyal to a fault.

“Maybe you can tell me who set this all up,” He says with a faintly amused, albeit exasperated, laugh. He offers some food to his friend, scratching a spot beneath Rafiq’s chin. “I must have been laying it on pretty thick if they caught on, huh?”

“It was a bit ostentatious, especially for you,” A familiar voice rings out from behind, and Claude’s heart leaps a bit in his chest.

When he turns his head, Claude sees the face attached to that familiar voice—it’s Dimitri, of course. The one person he hadn’t seen through this entire, strange day. Oddly enough, it’s a relief, even when he feels like he’s being scolded. At the very least, if there are any acts of affection from Dimitri to be had, it’ll be the most normal thing he’s experienced all day.

“Does that mean you were in on it?” Claude asks in response, an eyebrow quirking upwards. “I didn’t realize you had it in you to scheme behind my back.”

Dimitri lets out a faint chuckle, seemingly amused by the entire ordeal. “I must give credit where it’s due—Hilda is the one who came up with this plan. My involvement was little more than a conversation prior.” 

He pauses, very brief as he stands in front of Claude; the gap between them is faint, but far more than they usually exercise at moments like this; Dimitri has more to say before he relents a bit. “It may have been a bit over the top, but...sometimes we have to resort to extreme measures. Doubly so when you choose to mask those feelings from me, as well.”

Though he means little by it, the words tug at Claude’s heart a bit; for all of his posturing to Dimitri about not shouldering all his burdens, he hadn’t been able to follow his own advice. And because Dimitri had always held to his promise to not push Claude to speak on topics he may not be able to—he didn’t push or try to force it. Claude’s expression sinks a little. “Being a little homesick strikes every once in a while. It wasn’t something anyone needed to make such a fuss about.”

“You say that, but I know there’s more to it than that, Claude,” Dimitri pushes back a little; just a bit. He knows, after all. He knows better than anyone among their numbers how Claude had suffered because of his heritage, and how even as a leading figure, he had a difficult time feeling respected due to his myriad secrets. So even without saying, Dimitri needed no words to understand that Claude’s feelings weren’t just of homesickness, but of a faint feeling of losing the place he’d carved for himself in Fódlan as well.

Dimitri steps forward, further closing the gap between them, he lifts his hand, raising to cup Claude’s cheek softly. Instinctively, Claude leans into that touch, eyes falling closed, but he says nothing. No clever quips, no sly remarks or attempts to deflect. Just a faint sigh, which Dimitri takes as cue to continue his thought. “Everyone simply wished to ensure you didn’t forget that you’re no longer alone. Nobody here thinks less of you for your heritage. Our comrades, they have a great deal of love and respect for you, and all felt it right to express it in their own ways.”

Claude sighs, his head dipping; the laugh he lets out is embarrassed. “It’s a bit incorrigible to say all that when you were MIA all day, you know.”

He isn’t actually upset about it—this is Claude’s form of deflection. It’s his way of coping with how sheepish and embarrassed he feels for getting caught, for feeling so  _ seen _ by others in ways that he once would have never allowed. It’s a testament to how close he’s grown with his former schoolmates, and just how much trust he actually has in them, even when he consciously tries to restrain himself.

“Well,” Dimitri lets his hand drop, offering a bit of a playful smile all his own. “There’s still one last friend who needs to show you his feelings before I can… close the curtain on this show, so to speak.”

“Wh—” It’s a question Claude doesn’t get to finish asking before he suddenly feels the wet, warm slobber of a wyvern’s tongue sliding up his cheek and into his hair. “Come on, Rafiq,  _ really _ ? You too? When did you end up in scheming cahoots with Dimitri?”

He’s definitely flustered, wiping away the slobber and incredulously sighing in a way that truly, only Dimitri and Rafiq ever do get to see. Dimitri laughs again, awaiting Claude to finish drying his face before he steps close once again.

“I never did say I’d use the same methods as you when you needed a reminder that you weren’t alone,” Dimitri says, still smiling as he remembers the day they seized Enbarr, and the words they exchanged that day in the bloody aftermath. “I learned from the best in how to scheme, after all.”

Well, Claude can’t really deny that, can he? His tension seems to melt away easily; Dimitri’s mischievous side has its own, unexpected charms that are impossible to resist. Claude’s lips curve upward, his smile warm and relieved as he wraps his arms around Dimitri’s waist. “I might have taught you a little  _ too _ well.”

“Maybe so,” Dimitri agrees. He leans in, bridging the gap between them completely by way of pressing his lips to Claude’s. It’s laden with warmth, with love, with all the feelings that would lead him to agree to such a scheme to begin with, and Claude melts into it all the same. “But a devious scheme is worth it if it can put such a warm smile on my beloved’s lips.”

* * *

The sixth day of the Horsebow Moon, year 1186 was one the history books didn’t remember, but for the rest of their days, that date was celebrated as one in which King Khalid of Almyra received reminders from his loved ones of how his altruism affected their lives—and a day in which King Dimitri of Fódlan showered his beloved in kisses from sun up to sun down, to ensure he never lost sight of his worth.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing. I just wanted Claude to get some really silly smooches, some cute reminders that he is worthy and loved, and... the Dimiclaude food I need to feed myself 24/7, or else I will crumble into dust. That's all!


End file.
